


Anonymity is a Superhero's Friend.

by spotified



Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: Barista AU, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, another coffee shop AU, because barista wonpil is cute, or more like attempt at humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 19:04:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17350856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spotified/pseuds/spotified
Summary: Wonpil finds himself enamored with a certain customer who gives him a different fake name every time he comes in to buy coffee. He does wonder if he’ll ever know his name, or if he will be scrawling “Iron Man” indefinitely onto his cappuccino.





	Anonymity is a Superhero's Friend.

**Author's Note:**

> i swear, this sounded so much better in my head. still, i hope you'll like it! uwu

 

Wonpil has seen many faces — perhaps  _too many_  that most of them become a blur in his memory. Working at the local Starbucks café near his university meant that he is always busy, either from taking orders or working the espresso machine when preparing drinks. He loves the smell of coffee, hates the morning and evening rush of people trying to get their daily dose of caffeine. It was his unspoken rule to be fast and efficient, that any customer taking more than a minute of his time meant another’s time is wasted, so even if he does recognize some regulars, most people that come and go remain as fleeting faces in his mind.

It’s not to say that he doesn’t pay attention to his surroundings; in fact, Wonpil thrives on details. He makes it a point to spell his customer’s name correctly, adding a small smiley face whenever he notices distress in their expression, and even ensures measurements are accurate and his coffee presentations are clean. With the amount of customers he interacts with daily, he couldn’t quite keep track of everyone anymore — except the eccentric man who called himself Iron Man just the other day.

Wonpil remembers the first time he served him. It was during one of his afternoon shifts, where he was usually assigned to man the cashier. When the man entered in all his tall and blonde glory, Wonpil did not think of him as anything out of the ordinary; his faded blue jeans and oversized pink hoodie told him he must be a student, along with the heavy knapsack hanging on his back. He proceeded to take his order — an iced Americano that time — and when he asked for his name, Wonpil found himself briefly stopping in his tracks.

“Captain America,” he answered, a smile on his face. Wonpil blinked, completely caught off guard. He had his fair share of needing to serve people and their quirks, vaguely remembers peculiar names like Young K, but never a superhero’s name at that. The man scratched the back of his head sheepishly and Wonpil, finally back in his senses, offered him a small smile before scribbling the name on the cup.

When he called out the name moments later, he can hear soft laughter filling the already buzzing atmosphere and as he watched the man exit, he found himself chuckling along.

 

 

 The next time Wonpil sees him, his backpack was exchanged for a dark guitar case, and his hoodie for a white undershirt completed by a plaid polo on top. Wonpil noted that he was wearing a pair of thin-frame glasses, which he found endearing for some reason. As usual, the blonde man was all smiles the moment he stepped into the counter.

“Hello, what can I get for you today?” Wonpil asked in the politest voice he can muster. He noticed the man’s gaze trail to the chalkboard displayed atop their counter, before returning to meet his.

“A white mocha frappe,” he replied, one hand reaching to his back pocket to take out his wallet. “Venti, and no whipped cream please.”

Wonpil immediately punched the order, before taking the specific cup and his favorite marker. “Name?”

 

“The Hulk.”

 

The two of them exchanged brief glances, before finding themselves laughing together as Wonpil writes the name. He definitely does  _not_  look anywhere close to the green monster, but he humors him and even adds a small smiley face at the end.  _The_ _Hulk_  gave him a small nod when he served his coffee later, just before exiting the coffee shop.

 

The third time he sees the blonde man was no different, except he was dressed more formally than what Wonpil is used to, with his light blue dress shirt and fitted dark slacks. The laptop bag that hung on his shoulder that day was telling that he must have come from either a lecture or a presentation, and the rather unenthused expression he wore somewhat worried Wonpil. It took him longer than usual to choose which beverage to get before he eventually settled for a tall cup of hot chocolate — almond instead of dairy milk, Wonpil mentally noted. When he asked for his name, which he denies as the part he looks forward to the most, the blonde man pursed his lips, seemingly fazed.

“Uh —”

“How about Groot?” Wonpil suggested. “You look like you need a little bit of his joy today.”

The man blinked at him, which Wonpil thought was cute, and a wide smile immediately spread across his features. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

When his name was called, the said man approached the counter, mood obviously lighter than when he entered. “I am Groot,” he told the person manning the drinks as he handed his receipt to be stamped, and carefully collected his warm beverage. Just before leaving, he briefly stopped in front of the counter, eyes darting to the bronze plate pinned on his left chest.

“Thanks, Wonpil.”

And then he was gone again, but the look his co-worker Sungjin gave him made sure he will be remembered for a long time.

 

 

The man came back regularly after, and with a different alias each time. And on each occasion, Wonpil notes down one thing he noticed about him, starting from his seeming love for superheroes. He had very little knowledge about them, having never read comics before and the only reason he was even aware of some of the names is because his two friends and co-workers Sungjin and Dowoon would drag him to watch the latest movie installment when they come out. The moment the man began using names he had never seen in a movie, he would retreat to the staff room to open Google and make a quick search, before returning to his post. While Sungjin and Dowoon would bet on which name he will use next, Wonpil would busy himself by reading up on those wikia pages he found. With his curiosity getting the better of him, he decided to make his first comic book purchase: a Spider-Verse edition from 2015.

And so, when he returned and told Wonpil his name for the day is Spiderman, he knew enough to joke around with the superhero’s identity.

 

_“Peter Parker or Miles Morales?”_

_“I can’t tell you that. Anonymity is a superhero’s friend._ ”

 

With him becoming such a familiar face in the bustling coffee shop, Wonpil began to note his habits that he increasingly found cute. He remembers that he likes his coffee-based drinks prepared with only one shot of espresso, dairy milk traded in for either soy or almond, and always no whipped cream. Wonpil would sometimes offer him a cookie or a slice of cake, but he would shake his head politely in rejection, citing that he couldn’t stay to eat. For some reason, he always seems to be on the move.

And Wonpil does not entirely mind it; as each week passed and the semester settled into a routine, the amount of students flocking in did as well, and he knew he couldn’t spare more than a minute of his time for casual chatter. Yet the man had instilled himself as a regular part of Wonpil’s own routine, and with his bright smile and indulging personality, Wonpil could not deny the way his heart seems to race every time he sees the familiar man entering.

 

“Waiting for your crush?” Wonpil heard Sungjin from across their workspace, voice laced with an obvious teasing tone. He shot him a glare and his co-worker found himself chuckling at him.

“Stop, I don’t like him.” He muttered as an excuse, eyes focused on the countertop as he cleaned up.

Sungjin raised his arms as if in defeat, but his face bore an expression that Wonpil knew very well. He isn’t going to let this go easily. “Sure, whatever. But I didn’t specifically say you  _like_  him.”

Wonpil scowls at him, but neither of them prods at the matter. In fact, they spent the next hour going through their usual work without a hitch — taking orders, making coffee, and cleaning up.  _Rinse and repeat_. Wonpil’s gaze would wander to the entrance when his hands are not too full, but as the rush hour came to its peak, the man was left at the back of his mind, and when the clock struck 11, he helped Sungjin and Dowoon close the store, a little crestfallen.

He didn’t come in that day.

 

 

But when he did return two days later — not that Wonpil was counting or anything — he was determined to finally get his name.

And it seems like the world was doing him a favor, because the said man entered the store and instead of immediately making his way to the counter, he made himself comfortable on one of the shared seats by the window, guitar bag saddled carefully on the side of the plush chair. It was the first time he was staying in and not just casually grabbing a drink, and Wonpil was filled with hope of prolonging their usually short conversations, especially after seeing him pull out a textbook and a few reading materials.

When he stepped into the counter later, Wonpil was surprised to see him veer from his usual choices. He vaguely remembers him, under the guise of Hawkeye back then, telling him that he is not too fond of their Teavana selection. But here he was, paying for a large green tea latte and two chocolate chip cookies on the side.

“So is it going to be a superhero today?” Wonpil asked after, hoping to get his message across subtly. He found his habit of coming up with fake names entertaining, endearing even, but a part of him wanted to get to know him instead of scribbling Black Panther on his cappuccino again.

“Actually,” he chuckled, one hand returning his wallet to his back pocket. “Can you write Brian today?”

Wonpil felt his heart skip a beat.  _He has a foreign name?_   He was pleasantly surprised, and with the biggest smile he could muster, he gave him a nod in acknowledgement. “Brian.”

“Thanks again, Wonpil.”

From across the worktable, Sungjin raised an eyebrow at him as he heated the espresso machine, and Wonpil, still elated, was quick to brush him off.

He did, however, get the biggest surprise of his life when he called out for Brian later, only to see a tall man with black hair and fox-like eyes approach him instead of the cute blonde guy he was expecting.

He tried not to make the confusion too obvious, so he flashed him a smile and read the receipt. “A venti green tea latte for… Brian?” The last word sounded more like a question than a statement, but the man did not seem too fazed by it. He was all smiles as he handed him his copy of the receipt.

“Yep, that’s me.”

Wonpil watched him as he walked back to his shared coffee table with the blonde man, drinks and warm cookies on hand. The two of them sat across each other and continued with whatever they were doing. Wonpil wondered if the two of them are friends who are out studying that afternoon, or maybe two people who are on an actual date (which he hopes is _not_ the case at that moment). Whichever it was, the thought of getting his hopes too high in finally finding out his name, only to be severely disappointed, outweighed all his other thoughts. 

And when the two of them left a few hours later, with blonde guy smiling in his direction and _Brian_ following suit before waving at him, he can only sigh as he watched their retreating figures disappear through the front door. 

 

 

“He’s been staring at you,” Dowoon whispered, which made Wonpil jump. He clutched at his chest, a frown painting his serene expression, before warping into confusion upon realizing what the younger employee just said.

“Who?”

Dowoon nudges his head into a certain direction, Wonpil’s gaze following suit before landing on the figure of the customer he knows oh so well. Their eyes met for a brief moment, but the blonde man was quick to break it off, attention returning to the laptop sitting atop his coffee table. Wonpil blinked at the encounter, before turning to Dowoon.

“Are you still not going to ask for his name?” Sungjin piped up from behind. Wonpil shrugged.

“Nah,” he mutters, a little too dejectedly. “He probably won’t give his real name to a stranger like me.”

Dowoon and Sungjin exchanged glances, and the older male gave Wonpil a gentle pat on his shoulder, before ushering the two of them to continue with their work.

Wonpil had not paid that much attention to him when he entered, falling into their step by step routine of ordering, him giving another one of his fake superhero alias, paying, and then receiving his drink. He still found it mildly funny, how he was always so bold in choosing uncanny names for his Starbucks drink, but Wonpil’s mind kept wondering what his real name could be and it filled him with dread because he just does  _not_  have enough courage to simply go out there and ask.

 

One and a half month, 34 orders in, and he might as well just be superhero guy to him.

 

He did find a chance later on, when the time chimes in at a quarter to 11. It was nearing closing time, but cute blonde guy had not moved an inch from where he was sitting. His laptop was tucked in, but his table was splayed with various papers and transcripts, and the empty cup of coffee that he had finished two hours before.

Wonpil approached him carefully, not quite sure how to go about now that they are not talking about his drink or which alias he is choosing for the day. He was not even sure what to refer to him as, so he did what he thought is logical. Clearing his throat, he softly called out. “Uhm, mister Winter Soldier?”

The man looked up at him, seemingly disoriented, but when he realized Wonpil was talking to him, a wide grin spreads over his lips. He felt his heart beat just a bit faster.

“Oh, hey Wonpil.”

He returned his smile. “Hey, uhm. We’re actually closing in 15 minutes, just so you know.”

 _Winter Soldier_  blinked at him and a sheepish smile replaced his grin. “Right, sorry! I’ll pack up quickly.”

Wonpil tells him it’s fine, but before he could reply, he immediately excused himself to return and help with cleaning up. He stacked the chairs on top of the table and he mentally noted how Winter Soldier (the name seems so absurd in his head now) quietly helped by fixing his coffee table. It was five minutes to closing, but he was still hanging around even though there were no more customers.

“Can I help you with anything?” he asked from behind the counter and the man took his question as a sign to approach, his long strides giving him quite an edge. Wonpil was half-expecting and if he weren’t so tired, he wouldn’t have missed the soft blush coloring the man’s cheeks.

“So Wonpil,” he muttered, voice seemingly embarrassed. “This is probably going to come off as creepy and surprising, but I absolutely hate coffee and the only reason I even bother going here and getting a drink is because I think you’re cute.

“You make the cutest faces whenever you hear my weird superhero nicknames and you have the cutest laugh, so here.”

The man handed him a small napkin, probably the one Wonpil handed him with his order earlier. Wonpil looked up at him, puzzled, but unfolded the napkin anyway and found eight digits scrawled neatly onto it.

“Maybe… you’d like to get coffee with me sometimes?”

“You know I work at Starbucks. And you just said you hate coffee.”

Blonde guy flashes him another one of his sheepish but still bright smiles. “Ice cream then?”

Wonpil found himself laughing and when he finally regained his composure, he neatly folded the paper and tucked it carefully in his back pocket. “Only if you’ll tell me what your name is. I don’t think I’m ready to go out on a date with Winter Soldier yet.”

And when the man laughed after, Wonpil thought he had never heard anything more joyous in his life.

“Jaehyung. Park Jaehyung.”

 

 

Jaehyung does return for coffee the following day and he does tell him to write Wolverine when he asked for his name, but Wonpil doesn’t mind because he _knows_. He might go by many funny names to others, but to Wonpil, he is  _Jaehyung_. 

 


End file.
